


Homesick

by lynnearlington



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-06
Updated: 2010-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnearlington/pseuds/lynnearlington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana loves her house. Really, she does. She loves her family, her bedroom, her mom's cooking, her dad's laughter and even her annoying little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homesick

Santana loves her house. Really, she does. She loves her family, her bedroom, her mom's cooking, her dad's laughter and even her annoying little brother. After a long day at school, or a particularly bad Cheerios practice, she always feels better to come back to the comforts of home, play with her little brother and then stuff her stomach full of whatever enormous meal her mother had cooked that day. Let's be clear. She  _loves_  her house. 

But after her encounter with Finn, after he drives her to that burger joint down the street from the motel, it's not  _her_  house that she tells him to drop her off at. Instead she gives him directions to a different location and hopes he doesn't notice that it's not the same place he picked her up from. 

Thankfully, he pulls up in front of the place and doesn't say anything, just idles the car and keeps staring straight ahead, obviously waiting for her to exit. It's awkward, the air around feels them heavy and she hates the way her shoulder muscles bunch up as her stomach keeps churning. 

She's got the car door open and one leg on the pavement outside when she turns back to look at him, his face pale and blank and his hands nearly white from their tense grip on the steering wheel. The words, "I'm sorry," are almost out of her mouth until she remembers that she's Santana fucking Lopez and seriously, the guy should be fucking grateful she spread her legs for him. 

Her stomach turns over again when she thinks of the way he looked after the deed was done and she feels something between pissed off and disappointed so she settles for a cool "see you at school," before getting out of the car and heading towards the front door. 

It's not  _her_  house, or  _her_  family, but when she walks in the front door of Brittany's house and hears the sound of Brittany's mom laughing in the kitchen, she feels a little bit better. Instantly. Her back rests against the closed front door of the house and she spends a few seconds in the entryway, taking in the smell of baking cookies and the sounds of Brittany's sister squealing from somewhere in the back. 

She heads towards the kitchen first even though where she really wants to be is in Brittany's bedroom where she  _knows_  her best friend is. But she was raised with manners and she also knows her mother would frown disapprovingly if she heard that Santana didn't at least greet the matron of the house before sprinting up the stairs. 

So she goes into the kitchen and says, "Hey," when she sees the older woman taking some cookies out of the oven and start placing them on a plate. Her hand comes up in a little wave as Brittany's mom notices her arrival. 

"Santana!" It's weird, but she'll never get over how Brittany's mom always looks genuinely happy to see her. People usually have one of two reactions to her. Fear or envy. Sometimes it's a mixture of both, but genuine happiness isn't an emotion she's used to invoking in people. "How are you, dear? Oh here, have a cookie," the older woman offers, thrusting a plate of yellow frosted sugar cookies in front of her. 

The smell and warmth drifting up from them is intoxicating and though she knows she'll feel guilty for eating it later, she can't help but grab one off the plate and bite into it, her eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction. Hearing a diet lecture from Coach tomorrow (that woman has a sixth sense about this stuff, it's freaky) will be totally worth it, Brittany's mom is totally  _boss_  at baking. She always thinks it's kind of funny that Brittany never really inherited that particular trait. 

"Thanks," she says softly, after swallowing her first bite. 

Brittany's mom puts the plate on the counter and sets a hand on Santana's shoulder. "Bad day?" The hand on her shoulder squeezes her in sympathy and uncharacteristically, Santana doesn't feel the urge to swat it away. 

Instead, she shrugs, knowing she doesn't really need to answer. Brittany's mom knows her pretty well, almost as well as her own mother since she practically grew up in this house, so she figures her feelings must be all over her face despite her efforts to bury them. Not that she's entirely sure she actually  _had_  a bad day. She just knows that the feeling settling in the pit of her stomach is making her uneasy and what she really wants right now is another warm sugar cookie and the comfort of Brittany's yellow duck-covered duvet. 

"Brittany's upstairs," the older woman says, sympathetically and entirely unnecessarily. But Santana sees it for what it is - permission to leave - so she takes the out, and leaves the kitchen without another word. 

Three steps up the stairway she hears Brittany's little sister come barreling around the corner and squeal her name, Brittany's dad mere footsteps behind the smaller girl. 

"Hey, guys," she greets. 

"Santana, you wanna come play in my new treehouse?" The little girl's eyes are wide and pleading and Santana has to smile at the way she looks exactly like Brittany at that age. 

"You got a new treehouse?" 

The younger girl jumps up and down excitedly, her eyes wide. "Yeah, it's sooo cool, you have to see." 

Santana nods and smiles at the little girl. "Yeah, sure. Maybe later?" Right now, she really just wants to get upstairs, but she's pretty powerless against the expression on the girl's face, and she can see her resolve cracking if the smaller girl pushes her. It's the same expression Brittany always uses to get something she wants and it works every single damn time. 

For a second, the girl looks like she's going to protest and demand Santana see her treehouse right this very instant, but Brittany's dad takes pity on her and grabs his daughter around the waist, picking her up off the ground, and garnering a long peal of laughter. 

"Leave Santana alone, she'll come see your treehouse later. It's not going anywhere." He throws a grin and a nod at Santana before carrying the squealing girl towards the kitchen. 

A low breath escapes her and she finishes her trek up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before arriving in front of the third door on the left and opening it. 

The tension in her shoulders lessens and a grin finds its way onto her face when she sees Brittany lying on the bed with her head hanging off the side, her long blonde hair hanging down to the floor. The sound of some Madonna song is coming out, soft and low, from the speakers in the corner and Brittany is bobbing her head to the beat, smiling wide when she sees Santana walk in. 

"Hey," Santana greets, tilting her head to the side so she can see her friend right side up. 

"Hey, you," Brittany greets, rolling onto her stomach and scooting back farther on the bed. "What's up?" 

"Nothing," she replies with a smile and a shrug, toeing her sneakers off and shrugging out of her jacket as she walks farther into the room. Brittany shifts over a bit in invitation so Santana hops on to the bed next to her, mirroring her friend's position and pressing their lips together in greeting. Santana can feel Brittany's smile against her lips and a warmth replaces the emptiness in her stomach. "Hi," she whispers when they part. 

"Hi," Brittany answers, leaning in to kiss her again. "Mmm," the blonde girl licks her lips appealingly. "You had some of Mom's cookies." 

"Guilty," Santana says, nodding. 

"They taste good," Brittany says, kissing her again. "How'd it go with Finn?" 

Santana shrugs again and shifts her eyes away from Brittany's face for a moment. "It was fine," she answers, practiced nonchalance in her tone. 

"Then what's wrong?" Brittany traces a finger over Santana's eyebrow, her eyes roaming her best friend's face. 

"Nothing," she denies. 

"Santana," Brittany says, knowingly and for a second Santana kind of hates how well her best friend can read her. She's not really in the mood to talk about the whole Finn thing. She'd rather just sit here and forget it ever happened and not have to deal with sorting her feelings out. She doesn't even want to  _have_  feelings about it. 

"Honestly," she tries even though the expression on Brittany's face is of complete disbelief. Santana rolls her eyes. "I'm just tired." She winces when she looks at the clock on the nightstand. It's only 9:00. 

If the smirk on Brittany's face is any indication, the blonde girl isn't buying that excuse. But they've been friends for their entire lives and Brittany knows when to let stuff go for another time. Santana's never been more grateful when her friend sits up, turns the music off and says, "let's go to bed then!" 

They get ready to sleep and Brittany pulls her bed apart so they can crawl into it. She flips the light off as she climbs in, meeting Santana in the middle and tangling their legs together. It's a combination of warm covers, the taste of sugar cookies lingering in her mouth and the familiar feeling of Brittany snuggling into her side that makes Santana let out a long breath and relax. 

Brittany's tracing patterns on her hipbone that never fail to put her to sleep and as her eyelids start to droop, she realizes she wasn't totally lying. She  _is_  pretty tired. She feels her friend snuggle in closer, lips brushing over Santana's collarbone as Brittany whispers "I love you" into her neck. 

The words are warm on her skin and she can't fight the grin that spreads across her face in response. "You too," she replies, turning her head to speak the words into Brittany's hair. 

They don't say anything else after that and Santana just stares at the dark ceiling, runs her hands through Brittany's hair and enjoys the feeling of being truly comfortable for the first time that day. She can hear the sound of Brittany's family, still awake, rummaging around the house downstairs and she can hear Brittany start that adorable little snore she does when she sleeps really deeply. 

It's not  _her_  house, or  _her_  bed or  _her_  family, but it feels more like home than almost anything else. 

She loves her family, really loves them, but she loves  _this_  too. 

It's the last thought she has before she falls asleep, smiling softly against Brittany's forehead.   


  
  
  



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